This interview resulted in a very extraordinary scene. It seems that the queen had contrived the means of secretly releasing Somerset after his arrest, and bringing him by stealth to the king's pavilion, and concealing him there behind the arras at the time the Duke of York was to be admitted, in order that he, Somerset, might be a witness of the interview. While he was thus secreted, the Duke of York came in. He commenced his conference with the king by repeating earnestly what he said before, namely, that he had not been actuated in what he had done by any feeling of hostility against the king, but only against Somerset. His sole object in taking up arms, he said, was that that arch traitor might be brought to punishment.
On hearing these words, Somerset could contain himself no longer, but, to the astonishment of the Duke of York and to the utter consternation of the king, he rushed out from his hiding-place, and began to assail the duke with the most violent reproaches, alleging that his pretensions of friendship for Henry were false, and that the real design of his movements was to usurp the throne. The duke retorted with equally fierce denunciations and threats. During the continuance of this altercation, the king remained stupefied and speechless, and at length, when the duke retired, officers were ready at the door to arrest him, having been stationed there by the queen.
He was held a prisoner, however, but a short time, for his son, who afterward became Edward IV., immediately commenced raising an army to come and release him. It was considered, for other reasons, dangerous to attempt to hold such a man in durance, since probably more than half the kingdom were on his side. So he was offered his liberty on condition that he would take the new and solemn oath of fealty to the king.
This he consented to do, and the oath was taken with great ceremony in St. Paul's Cathedral, and then he was dismissed. He went off to one of his castles in the country, muttering deep and earnest threats of vengeance.
It was about a year after this that Margaret's babe was born. It was a son.
Of course, the birth of this child immensely increased the difficulties and dangers in which the kingdom was involved, for it seemed to extinguish the hope that the quarrel would be settled by the York family succeeding peaceably to the crown on the death of Henry. Now, at length, there was an heir to the Lancastrian line. Of course Margaret, and all those who were connected with the Lancastrian line, either by blood or political partisanship, would resolve to support the rights of this heir. On the other hand, it was not to be supposed that the Duke of York would relinquish his claims, and he would no longer have any inducement to postpone asserting them. Thus the birth of the young prince was the occasion of plunging the country in new and more feverish excitement than ever. Plots and counter-plots, conspiracies and counter-conspiracies, were the order of the day. Every body was taking sides, or, at least, making arrangements for taking sides, as soon as the outbreak should occur. And no one knew how soon this would be.